


Citrus & Autumn

by voidsoda



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Harry being oblivious, Hogwarts, Love, Love Letters, M/M, POV Harry, Romance, hogwarts 8th year, sending each other love letters but not realizing youre in love, two dumbasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27308227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidsoda/pseuds/voidsoda
Summary: Harry is always awake. So is Draco.They hate each other, despite the kisses, despite the love letters, they're sure they hate each other.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 173





	Citrus & Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by red white and royal blue and kill your darlings

Nobody had thought to explain to him how he was supposed to live.

The corridors were empty, not even the wind dared to wander along. It was too late, too cold, too quiet. Nobody in their right mind would be here right now. But Harry never assumed he was in his right mind anyway.

Every corridor felt the same. Looked the same. And his eyes wouldn't adjust to the darkness, no matter how long he was surrounded by it. It would've been easy to cast a simple spell to light up his path, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't do magic. He _couldn't_ do magic.

He walked faster, and all he could hear were his own footsteps, his own breathing. _In an out. In and out._ It was supposed to be easy. Usually it was easy. Not during moments like these. He heard the sound of his veins pumping in his ears, his head filling with a ringing and chaos. Chaos about everything. Or nothing.

His chest felt heavy as he clammed onto his robes. _Stop shaking_ He wanted to scream at his hands. _Be still. Be normal._

It was hot. It wasn't this hot when he started walking. It didn't make sense; it was October. It should be freezing. He should be running towards his common room, seeking the warmth of blankets and fire. Instead, all he wanted was ice. Water. Anything to take away the heat.

Despite the darkness, he could easily tell when his vision started blurring and black spots blinded him, right before he collapsed on the ground.

~

You'd think somebody would be used to the sound of owls after living at Hogwarts for almost half their life. Harry wasn't.

It was still dark outside, and the heat had passed. Now all he felt was a cool breeze, and all he heard were owls. It was comforting to think they were also up during this hour. He wasn't the only one not sleeping. He wasn't alone, even if it felt like it.

He had no energy left to get up from the cold floor, and so he shifted himself towards the walls of corridor and leaned the back of his head against it. He inhaled. Air. It was back. Just like the silence. His head wasn't filled with his own heartbeat anymore. He would've called it peaceful if not for the cry's floating through the corridors. At first, he thought they were his own. But he found his cheeks to be dry when he reached out to touch them.

It seemed the owls and him had company.

He pushed himself up and grabbed the engravings in the wall before he lost his balance and fell. His sight went blurry, but only for a short while. He moved as soon as it cleared up. As he walked towards the right side of the castle, the cry's grew louder and louder. They sounded muffled, like someone was trying to hide them. Harry didn't understand why. There was nobody here, nobody to hide from.   
When he reached the boys bathroom, he stopped. His hand floated above the door handle. _Privacy_. Someone crying in the bathroom would probably want privacy. But maybe.. maybe they needed help. And maybe he could help them, whoever it was. He was already here anyways, there was no point in turning back now.

The bathroom was a large, round room. In the middle stood a pole with sinks lined up against it. And against one of those sinks sat a boy. His hands grabbing his hair, his head down. He sat with his knees pulled up. And he was crying; he had tears on his cheeks, a red blush on his nose, almost the same color as the once white of his eyes. Draco Malfoy was crying.

He didn't know if it was okay to run from a crying person, but he didn't have to wait to find out; he could almost see Malfoy's neck hair's stand up when he stepped foot on the bathroom tile. Malfoy swallowed. So did he. And then he looked up, his eyes bloodshot. He seemed almost small. Even fragile. Like he'd fall apart at touch.

Harry kept still as he stood in the doorway. Maybe he was supposed to apologize. Was that appropriate? It probably was. He didn't do it though. He just stared. Both of them did, waiting for the other to say something.

They opened their mouth at the same time.

'Sorry', said Harry.

'Leave', was all that came from Malfoy.

'You should go back to the common room', Harry sniffed.

'So should you.'

Neither one of them moved. They knew they had two choices; either one of them walked a long way, or they walked the short way together, in an awkward silence. It seemed neither Malfoy nor Harry was going to willingly chose the long way.

So they walked together, on opposite ends of the corridors, as far away from each other as possible, like they were contagious. Harry's curiosity burned through him, tempting him to ask Malfoy why he was in the bathroom, alone, crying. But Malfoy would never answer, so Harry never asked.

The 8th years common room had no password; you simply greeted the painting. Professor Mcgonagall had said the idea behind this was to create a welcoming, open place for all the 8th year students. Only greeting a painting in the middle of the night seemed quite the task.

'Good evening', Harry spoke.

Next to him Malfoy scoffed. 'It's not evening.'

'Then you say something.'

'Goodmorning.'

'That's not any better', Harry said. He waited patiently for the painting to wake. Malfoy was a little less patient, as his foot started tapping the ground in an unsteady rhythm.

'Can a painting be given some rest?' the knight before them sighed.

'We're sorry, sir', Harry replied. 'May we come in? We're quite tired.'

'So am I my boy!' the knight exclaimed. 'So am I...'

Despite his complaining, he opened the door slowly. Harry slipped into the common room and muttered a quick thank you before the painting shut again. He replied with more complaints about the time, teenagers, boys, and Harry guessed much more.

The common room was a round, narrow, tall tower. The main room had a couple of sofa's standing against the walls, one in the middle of the room, in front of where usually burned a welcoming fire. Now there were just ashes.   
There were four stairs; one for each house. Despite Mcgonagall's desperate attempts to achieve house unity, they'd been able to convince her to separate the bedrooms.

It was strange seeing the common room so quiet. Most of the times it was filled with people yelling at each other, arguing over useless things. Now he just heard his own breathing, and that of Malfoy next to him.

'Not a word to anyone about this Potter', Malfoy snarled before he turned the Slytherin room's way.

'Why were you crying Malfoy?'

'That's non of your business.'

'I won't tell anyone.'

He turned back around. He still looked small and breakable, even if his voice sounded like it usually did; cold, bitter. But the Draco Malfoy before him didn't look like either of those. He looked broken.

'Are you not going to answer me?' Harry asked.

'Go to hell Potter.'

'I've been there already.'

He swore he saw a hint of amusement on Malfoy's face before he turned his back on him and walked up to the Slytherin bedroom.

In the Gryffindor bedroom he found his friends sleeping peacefully. He was glad for them, truly. They'd adapted, dealt with the pain. They weren't surviving anymore, they were living. But nobody had taught Harry Potter how to live. Maybe that's why he cried himself to sleep that night.

~

Time seemed an unknown concept to him at night.

The 8th year common room had no windows in it, so when he'd stay downstairs all night, he had no clue how much time had passed. But he liked it like that. Sometimes it felt like time slowed down, like it stopped. And during those moments Harry finally felt like he could breath. Like he could take his time to make everything right, without time _passing and passing and passing_. It was peaceful. Draco Malfoy seemed quite fond of destroying his peace.

It was two am, maybe three, when he heard the portrait's complaints through the walls, right before it shifted open and Malfoy stepped into the room. He looked tired, but he didn't look as if he'd been crying like a couple of weeks ago. He didn't even notice Harry, who was slumped down on the middle sofa, his back to Malfoy. He moved his head over his shoulder to watch him and he followed his movements as Malfoy took of his shoes. _He was panting_ Harry realized. Maybe he'd run.

'I don't suppose right now is the best time for a run', Harry said. He didn't mean for it to sound so caustic, but it did.

'Leave me alone Potter.'

Harry did. He turned back to the chess game in front of him. He was playing himself. It didn't work, but at least he never lost.

'Are you playing against yourself?' Malfoy stood at the top of the Slytherin stairs.

'Yes', Harry didn't look up as he moved a pawn on the board.

'Pathetic', footsteps sounded.

'Play with me.'

'Absolutely not.'

Harry turned around. He rested his head against the cushions of the sofa and squinted his eyes at Malfoy. 'I'm the best player there is', he lied.

'My father taught me, I'm excellent at chess.'

'Prove it.'

He saw Malfoy's eyes shift over him, searching for something he didn't know. Maybe for a reason. Because Harry Potter wouldn't invite Draco Malfoy to play chess with him without a solid reason. Harry didn't know it either. Malfoy bit the inside of his mouth. He stared and the chessboard, at Harry, back at the chessboard. Then he moved away from the bedroom door. Harry didn't bother hiding his triumph.

He sat down on the ground on the opposite side of the salon table and folded his legs. He moved the chess pieces away, divided them. Harry just let him, he had no clue how chess was played anyway.

Malfoy gave him white, himself black.

'What if I want to be black?' Harry asked.

'You can't', he turned a piece for it to face front. 'I'm always black.'

'You always wear black.'

Malfoy furrowed his brow before he spoke. 'White begins.'

Harry moved a pawn, seeing as it was the only piece he knew the rules of. Malfoy didn't seem very impressed with his move. He wondered if Malfoy was truly such a good chess player. He probably was. He was also most definitely better than Harry, who never seemed to acknowledge the rules when playing against himself.

'Your turn.'

Harry moved the knight two places forward.

'What are you doing?' Malfoy asked.

'Playing chess.'

'You moved the knight two places forward.'

Judging by Malfoy's face, Harry'd done something wrong. He tried not to show his lack of knowledge and simply moved the knight one place to the left, which seemed to satisfy Malfoy, who in turn moved another pawn.

Harry moved the bishop. Malfoy looked puzzled.

'You have no clue how chess works, do you', he remarked. Harry gave him a faint smile.

'Is it that obvious?'

'Very', he crawled up. 'I think I won', he said, spinning back to face the stairs.

Harry's gaze lingered on him as he walked to the stairway.

'Do you sleep Malfoy?' he asked when he stood at the last step.

Malfoy didn't turn around. 'What?'

'At night; do you sleep?'

Malfoy's breath stalled, Harry could hear it. But he didn't leave. He simply stood at the top of the stairs, his hand resting on the door handle.

'No.'

Harry nodded. 'Me neither.'

Then the Slytherin disappeared. When Harry turned around to the chessboard, he noticed Malfoy had turned it around. Now Harry was playing black.  
  
  


~  
  
  


The common room was a mess.

Harry couldn't remember a time when they had all sat in the room in quiet. There were always people arguing, and with people he meant Gryffindors and Slytherins. Todays participants were Blaise Zabini and Ron. Harry sat on one of the sofa's in the back of the room as he watched the two shout and scream. He had no clue what they were arguing about, and he had no desire to find out. Zabini let out a laugh, and Rons face turned red from anger. Hermione took this as a sign to jump between the two. She turned her back on Zabini and whispered soft words to Ron. He calmed down, Zabini didn't, and before the group knew it everyone was screaming again, Hermione included.

Malfoy sat on the couch next to Zabini, observing his fellow classmates. He did that a lot, Harry noticed. He never joined the fights, never threw around hurtful insults. It was strange. It wasn't like him. The Malfoy he knew would be standing next to Zabini right now, calling Ron and Hermione names. Instead he turned around and met Harry's eyes. Malfoy narrowed his eyes, letting his gaze move over him. Harry felt a shiver travel up his spine.

Whatever the moment was, it was broken by Hermione. 'Harry saved us! He saved you too!'

He ripped his eyes away from Malfoy at the mention of his name. Hermione did this a lot. She'd talk about all Harry had done, all he had lost. He knew she meant well, but he wished she'd stop. All it did was bring back old memories, and it didn't look like Zabini was impressed either.

'Potter looks like he's braindead', he said. 'He moves around like a zombie.'

Harry sighed. 'Contrary to popular belief, I am very much still a human being', he looked up at Zabini, not bothering to stand up from the sofa. 'I also still have a fairly functioning brain.'

'Let him be Harry', said Hermione. 'He's not worth our time nor our energy.'

'Are you sure about that?' he ignored Hermione's pleads. 'Because you walk around like you're on deaths doorstep.'

He walked his way. Suddenly everyone's eyes shifted to Harry, and all they did was watch him. Every move he made. There were too many people. Too little space. Too little air. Zabini was talking, but his voice was no where to be found. All breathing became too loud; it drowned his words out.

A slender, pale hand grabbed Zabini's shoulder and gently pulled him away from Harry. 'Leave it, Blaise', Malfoy spoke. His words were clear. Harry didn't know why.

'I was just getting started', Zabini showed his teeth. But he walked away, shooting Harry one more dirty glance.

Harry hardly noticed it; he was looking at Malfoy. He looked back at him and for a split second Harry could've sworn he saw his mouth curl into a soft smile. But then he walked away and followed his friend up to the Slytherin room. Slowly everyone stopped paying attention to him. Hermione asked him if he was fine. He said yes.

~

November was a sad month.

It was all bare trees, melting snow and freezing nights. Harry watched the owls circle around each other, his nose pressed against the window glass. _He'd like to be an owl,_ He concluded. They could go wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. They probably didn't feel like their lungs where collapsing every now and then. And if they did, they'd just fly.

Harry used to be able to fly.

When he got back to Hogwarts Quidditch was the first thing on his mind. Ginny convinced him that he had to try out again if he wanted to make the team; it was only fair. And at first it went fine. Better than fine, it went perfect. Everything was perfect. But then he got higher in the air, and things became colder, and suddenly he was all too aware of how breakable the wood beneath him was. And then he panicked. It was the first time it happened.

He landed behind the Quidditch field. Nobody saw him, and he laid there for what felt like hours. He had no energy to stand, no energy to move. When he finally went back inside, it was dark outside. He threw his broom somewhere on the grass. He still had no idea where it was.

The owls flew away. Harry took it as a sign to go back upstairs, up to the common room. He hoped nobody was fighting. He hoped for some quiet.

Of course he wouldn't get it.

Neville was in a heated argument with Pansy Parkinson. He'd never seen Neville that frustrated, and he stood in the portrait opening watching the scene before him.

'Move away so I can close!' the knight groaned.

'Sorry, sir', Harry whispered. He moved away, his eyes still focused on Neville and Parkinson.

'He's a bit grumpy today.'

Harry faced left. Malfoy was sitting on the Slytherin stairs, a book in his hand. He'd dog-eared the page. Hermione would've scowled at him just for that.

'Who is?' Harry asked.

'The knight.'

'Mhm.'

He leaned against the wall. Ron had joined Neville. It didn't do any good though; Parkinson only seemed more amused.

'I'm surprised you're not up there', Harry said.

Malfoy looked up from his book. He stared at Neville and Parkinson. 'You really think I'd waste my time arguing over useless things?' he pressed his lips into a thin line.

'You do with me.'

'That's different.'

'How come?'

Malfoy paused. 'It just is', he decided.

Harry moved his way and waved his hand. Malfoy shifted to his left before Harry sat down next to him. The steps were cold. He pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. 'What are they fighting about?'

'I don't even think they know', Malfoy shrugged.

And then their shoulders touched, which neither seemed to notice how that had happened. All Harry noticed was that the cold of November was balanced by the warmth of Draco Malfoy. It felt strangely nice. Malfoy didn't shift away, so neither did Harry. Until Parkinson shot a glance at them. Harry'd never seen someone stand up as fast as Malfoy did.

He cleared his throat and open his mouth to say something. Harry wished he'd say something. He didn't; all he did was follow Parkinson out of the common room as Neville and Ron approached him.

'I'm going to kill all these bloody Slytherins', Ron snarled.

~

Harry decided November wasn't as sad as he believed it was on the last friday of the month.

He sat in front of the fire, which was almost burned out. It looked lonely, being firewood. If you're lucky you burn, and if you're unlucky you don't, and you're left laying around the ashes of other pieces. Harry concluded he had absolutely lost his mind when he started to feel sorry for a half burned piece of wood.

The cold returned only minutes after the last flame had gone out. He didn't want to use magic, not for the light either. Magic just reminded him of everything.

It didn't shock Harry when Malfoy arrived late in the common room, or when he did and Malfoy was still up too. Maybe it was a little comforting to know he shared his troubles.

Sometimes he'd come back fine. Sometimes he came back with salt on his cheeks. Today seemed to be the latter.

'You okay?' Harry swallowed.

'Fine', he wasn't fine.

Harry didn't care. He did not care why Draco Malfoy came back to the common room crying in the middle of the night, or why he didn't seem to be able to sleep, or why he wasn't insulting and pestering people like he used to. He didn't care, because he didn't care about Draco Malfoy.

Maybe he'd believe it if he repeated it once more.

And then Malfoy was seated in the armchair in front of the fireplace, and all Harry could think about was how close they were. Maybe if he moved a bit, if he leaned back, his feet would touch his back. Harry didn't lean back; he shifted left and turned around.

'So how come you're crying if you're fine?' he broke the silence.

Malfoy merely stared in front of him, like he hadn't even heard Harry. He looked empty, not just sad, and Harry didn't just feel intrigued to know why, he also felt _bad_. Because he recognized a small part of himself in the boy sitting across from him. He'd been there. He still was.

'Malfoy?' his voice was raw, too loud, too aggressive. He wished he never said a word.

'It's non of your business.'

'You can tell me.'

'Why would I do that?' he snarled.

'I don't know', Harry's eyes drooped down. He wished he'd walk away, stop trying to pry into Malfoy's personal life. Why wasn't he walking away? But then again, the war was over. It was all done. Why should they hate each other? They could be friends, and Harry could forgive and forget everything he'd done, and Malfoy could forgive and forget whatever had made him hate Harry so much, and they could play chess.

He smiled at the thought of it, then almost slapped himself. _Who was he kidding?_ Malfoy wasn't his friend, and would never be his friend, and Harry should get some sleep because his brain was malfunctioning.

'I shouldn't be here', his voice was so quiet Harry almost didn't notice it.

'Why?'

'Because I'm not one of the good guys, I never was, and I'm here while there are so many lives that have been lost. People that had a million better reasons to be here than me. But instead I'm here, and it doesn't make sense. And it's.. it's just not right.'

Harry doesn't quite know if Malfoy is talking to him or not. He was still staring at the once-fire, hardly acknowledging him. 'People deserve second chances, Malfoy', he said.

'Not me.'

'You weren't a bad guy.'

'I wasn't a good guy.'

'That doesn't mean you're a bad guy.'

The truth was, Harry never saw Malfoy as one of the bad guys, despite the ink on his wrist. He was just Malfoy, an annoying prick who'd deliver one-line jokes and then Harry'd respond with a sarcastic comment and then they'd part ways until their paths crossed again and it happened all over again. And then, maybe he'd chosen the wrong side, but Harry had a lot of time to think about that when he'd been asked to stand at Malfoy's and Narcissa's trial. See, Malfoy wasn't a bad guy, he was just a boy following his family. A family of death eaters, but his family nonetheless. Harry couldn't say he wouldn't have done the same.

'I made your life a living hell, Potter', Malfoy snapped at him.

'Don't give yourself too much credit now.'

'You mean to tell me you had a blast while I insulted every single thing in your life?'

'You truly had a passion for it', this seemed to make Malfoy crack a small smile, even if it was an annoyed one.

The clock in the common room started chiming. 2 am. It was way too late. He should be asleep, but he wasn't. And he was sitting in the common room with Draco Malfoy, and he was making him _smile_ , and it had made Harry.. somewhat happy. He tried to ignore it, it was a lost cause. Harry hated it. He didn't hate it when Malfoy sat down on the ground next to him, even though he knew he should've.

'If I wasn't so fucking tired all the time, I would still be making your life a living hell', Malfoy spoke.

'Good', Harry said.

In the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy's face turn his way, he paused before he opened his mouth. 'You look like shit, seriously. Your hair looks even more stupid than it did before. You'd think you would finally consider getting a hair cut after almost dying. And your tie looks horrendous. Have you never learned how to tie a tie? You're just so fucking pathetic.'

Before Harry could even turn his head Malfoy's hand moved to his jaw to turn it for him, and then their lips crashed. And it was strange, and new, and a little awkward because Harry was just sitting there, unsure of what to do with his hands. But then it was also kind of _nice_ , and a heat spread through his body, like a battle between Malfoy and November cold. He was winning, and then he wasn't. Malfoy rested his other hand on Harry's chest and softly pushed him away. He was staring at him. Harry was staring right back, and they sat on the ground, Malfoy's hands on his body, their breaths in sync. Until Malfoy swallowed and moved back.

'I think I should go to sleep', he mumbled.

'Oh', _Why would you say that. Of course he should go to fucking sleep, it's 2 am,_ Harry thought. 'I thought you didn't sleep', _bloody fucking hell, even worse._

'Goodnight', he said it quickly, quietly, and then he made a run for it and the cold returned to Harry's body.

~

Saturday morning came too slowly as Harry watched the clock on the sofa. The ticking became engraved in his brain after the second hour.

He was lying on the sofa, his head hanging over the edge, watching the clock upside down. 8 am. When did Malfoy usually go downstairs? _I don't care_ , He told himself. Then he stared at the Slytherin stairs again, waiting for a blond to appear at the top.

Because the thing was, Malfoy had been a real fucking asshole the night before. He'd realized it around 5 am, when he couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. And then he concluded that Malfoy was a fucking asshole for just leaving like that after it. And then around 6 am Harry decided to confront him the minute he saw him. They'd blame it on their lack of sleep, Malfoy's mood, Harry's coldness, and they could forget about it. Hopefully. Harry wished he could forget about this, he hadn't been successful just yet.

At 9 am most of his fellow student had emerged from their bedrooms, except Malfoy.

At 10 am Zabini walked out of the Slytherin room, which, if Harry counted the Slytherins right, meant Malfoy was the only one up there.

At 11 am the common room cleared up as everyone started their plans for the day.

At 12 pm Ron and Hermione came to ask him  
if he was alright.

'Are you... What's the point of this exactly?' Hermione frowned.

'I'm waiting', Harry simply said.

'For what?'

'A ferret.'

Ron looked at Hermione with a look that could only mean _holy-fuck-he-has-lost-his-mind_ , and then turned to him again as he opened his mouth. 'Harry, you should come have some lunch. Saturday's are the best food days.'

'I'll be there in a minute, you guys go on without me.'

They gave up and left.

At 1 pm the common room was completely empty, and Harry had had enough. It wasn't very rational, but he stood up and walked up the Slytherin stairs. He was surprised there was no steam coming out of his ears.

He knocked. And again And again. And when nobody opened, he pushed the door open, only to be greeted by an empty bedroom. Five empty beds, dark green covers and silver blankets and pillows. A bunch of books. A pot of ink that broke next to a desk. Some crumbles of pumpkin pasties. Slytherin robes over the chair. A black suit laying over bed that was definitely Malfoy's, but Malfoy himself wasn't there.

He was storming down the stairs in no time, ignoring everyone and everything he passed. _The fucking fucking fucking asshole_ , He thought. Then he thought about kissing him, and he mentally slapped himself. He turned into the great hall. It was busy. _Lunch time, for normal people,_ He reminded himself. He didn't even notice Hermione's waves as his eyes trailed along the heads of students at the Slytherin table. He was there, sitting next to Parkinson, cutting his pasta in to a million little pieces.

Then Harry came back to his senses and realized he couldn't just storm up to the Slytherin table, even if he _really_ wanted to. Instead, he sat down next to Ron and Hermione, joined their conversations while keeping an eye on the Slytherin table.

'What are you staring at?' Ron asked.

'Nothing important.'

'You seem to stare at it a lot for it to not be important', he replied.

He drowned Ron's words out when he noticed Malfoy standing up, and he followed his movements. Malfoy walked out of the great hall, Parkinson by his side. Harry didn't care, he'd ask her to leave; he needed to tell Malfoy how rude he was. Because he was plain rude. You don't kiss and run. It's rude.

So was vanishing in a sea of students. Malfoy still did it though.

~

After three days, Harry concluded Malfoy was actively avoiding him. He'd show up late to classes when Harry was early, and early when Harry was late. He left the great hall when Harry entered, and entered when he left. He'd retreated into the Slytherin bedrooms instead of the common room at night, and he'd even locked the door.

Harry couldn't bring himself to use a spell. If the bastard didn't want to talk, that was fine. Harry didn't want to talk either. He hated Malfoy. He wrote it down a couple of times to instruct his brain on it. It didn't listen.

But then there was that one Tuesday night when the Ravenclaws made a bunch of pizza's for everyone to share, and so Malfoy was forced to be in the same room as Harry. He still found a way to avoid him, and Harry decided then and there that he was absolutely done with the asshole. That's how he found himself banging on the Slytherin bedroom door at 8 pm. Zabini opened the door.

'Hi?' he asked.

'I need to speak to Malfoy', Harry said between gritted teeth.

Zabini stepped aside. 'Go ahead', he said. Malfoy was laying on his bed, his back prompted up against the wall. He was wearing pyjama's, black sweatpants and a Slytherin sweater, and Harry tried not to pay attention to it, even if he really wanted to.

'Malfoy', his voice made all four Slytherins look up. Three looked confused, one looked annoyed.

'Potter', he spoke. 'What do you need.'

'We need to talk.'

'I don't believe we do.'

'Yes. We do', he was going to kill him. He'd be send to Azkaban, but there would be no more Draco Malfoy. No more people who kissed you and then left _and then_ pretended like it never happened.

'Well then, fine, but make it short', Malfoy threw his book on the floor and walked up to Harry, who just walked down the stairs. Malfoy followed. The common room was crowded with people.

'Talk', Malfoy demanded.

'Not here', Harry grabbed a hold of his wrist and pulled him towards the portrait, then started tapping as he waited impatiently. 'Merlin', he sighed.

Malfoy's wrist burned under Harry's touch.

They passed the portrait and Harry walked to an empty and luckily open classroom and opened his mouth to tell Malfoy all about how much of an asshole he was, but the minute he made an attempt to say anything Malfoy pressed his lips on his. He kicked the door closed with the heel of his foot and pushed Harry against it, and then he realized that this was exactly what he didn't want to happen. So he pushed him away. Malfoy frowned.

'Why did you do that?' he asked.

Harry felt the blood rushing to his face. He didn't know if it was because of embarrassment or anger. He hoped it was the latter.

'Malfoy, you absolute dickhead!' he yelled and he pushed him further away. 'You don't kiss people like that and then just leave!'

'Are you blind Potter? I'm still standing right fucking here.'

'You ran Friday.'

'I went to bed.'

'Bullshit.'

'Are we done?'

'Fine

'Fine.'

~

Malfoy was very confusing, and Harry very confused.

He ignored him everywhere; classes, the common room, corridors, the great hall. And Harry had accepted that. Malfoy was nothing more than a stupid prick and Harry had to get over the fact that he was quite a good kisser. It didn't make up for the rest of his personality.

He'd also accepted that Malfoy was avoiding him during the night too. He ignored the longing feeling when he walked through the corridors. He blamed it on loneliness and tried to do anything but link it to Malfoy. He tried not to think about him. Until Harry heard sobs that night and until he recognized the sobs. He trailed his finger along the windows, collecting dust. The sobs only seemed to grow louder. And longer. And sadder. Harry thought it was nearly impossible not to see what had made Malfoy so incredibly upset.

He sat on the floor, his back resting against the walls, his cheeks, nose, lips wet from tears. He didn't notice Harry at first. When he crouched down he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

'You look cheery to see me', Harry grinned.

'Shove off', he replied, but he kept their eye contact.

'You're crying.'

'Really? I had no idea.'

'Why?'

He said nothing. Harry scowled. 'Fine', he muttered. He slid down next to him. He could hear his breathing. It was loud, unsteady, accompanied by silent sobs. Malfoy had his eyes closed, Harry had his eyes on Malfoy.

'Malfoy', Harry said. He got no response. So he said it again, and again, till his name was a mere whisper that floated away the minute he spoke it. He repeated his name, one time for every time he'd thought about him that week.

'What?' Malfoy jerked his head his way, but on his face lingered a smile, so Harry smiled back. He brought his hand to Malfoy's cheek and gently brushed away tear. The silence was comfortable. Malfoy whispers broke it.

'I want to kiss you.'

Harry felt like his heart was pounding in his stomach, like his other organs were pounding along. Malfoy was confusing, and Harry was confused. And he leaned forward and gently connected their lips. He tasted like salt.

Harry didn't know why he'd kissed Draco Malfoy three times within the span of two weeks. He decided he didn't have to know, not right now.

~

They didn't talk a lot.

When they did, it was old news. Overused insults, half meant ones back. And then sometimes Malfoy would kiss Harry, or Harry would kiss him. But they never spoke about it. They never spoke about anything. Harry didn't know if he wanted to. He didn't know anything, except that Malfoy's lips were soft, and they usually tasted like citrus and burned sugar, and they fit his perfectly.

Harry took out his chess set. It was just past midnight, a school day, so everyone was asleep. Everyone but Harry, and Malfoy. He was probably wandering through the corridors. Harry decided he was going to learn how to _actually_ play chess. He didn't care if him and Malfoy didn't talk, because they could play. Only now they couldn't, because Harry had not the faintest idea how the game worked. He folded the board open, and in the middle lay a small piece of parchment. On the front stood his name. _Harry Potter._

_Hello asshole golden boy chosen one who's fucking annoying and I like to kiss,_

_How are you on this fine evening? Probably not well, since you only play chess when you're stressed._

_Anyway, I don't know why I'm writing this letter. And if you're planning on writing back I will kill you in your sleep. It'll be very hot._

_\- D_

Of course Harry wrote back. He didn't sleep anyways. He left the note in the chessboard, and they did so for the rest.

**_Hello piece of shit who is definitely a worse kisser than me but I guess it'll have to do,_ **

**_I would like to point out that I do not only play chess when I'm stressed. Also, you're writing me and then telling me not to write you back??? Please let someone check your brain, I feel like there are a couple of loose threads in there._ **

**_\- H_ **

_————_

_Hi my dearest enemy,_

_Have you ever learned proper manners? You looked ridiculous during potions today._

_\- D_

_————_

**_my favorite arch nemisis,_ **

**_There are easier ways to admit you stare at me during class. Also, I looked very good, and you know it._ **

**_\- H_ **

_————_

_Dear person I want to kiss/kill (choose whichever you prefer)_

_I think you're confidence is endearing and foolish. I was rather annoyed by the amount of times I saw your face today. Stop going to the same classes as me._

_\- D_

_————_

**_Dear person who wants to kiss me_ **

**_You don't seem annoyed by my face when you're kissing it._ **

**_xoxo_ **

_————_

_Dear autumn leaves and toasted bread,_

_Professor flitwick has officially captured a spot on my "people I'll kill if I ever go down a crazy path" list. For your information, you're on it as well. Twice._

_x Draco_

_————_

**_Dear citrus and burned sugar,_ **

**_I feel honored to have earned not only one, but two spots on that very list. Do you have any other lists? Am I on any of them?_ **

**_I must say flitwick wasn't entirely fair last lesson, but you looked very pissed after and you look quite hot when you're pissed, so I see no problem._ **

**_kisses, Harry_ **

_————_

_Dear autumn,_

_I do actually have a couple of lists, but you're out of your mind you think I'm sharing them with you. I'll tell you you're on a "hot people" list, but you're also on a "people I want banned from the face of the earth" list._

_I think that means we should make out_

_x Draco_

_————_

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_I walked into the Slytherin room today on accident and Parkinson looked at me like I was declaring war._ **

**_I don't think your friends like me._ **

**_It's fair, mine don't like you either_ **

**_Kisses, Harry_ **

_————_

_Dear Autumn,_

_I completely understand my friends. I don't like you either. You're an insufferable git (who is also a great kisser, but that's besides the point)_

_Your tie looked absolutely terrible today. It always does, but today was the worst ever. If you don't start tying your tie, we're going to have to use it for different purposes_

_x Draco_

_————_

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_Conclusion; don't make out on the astronomy tower. Do you think they saw us? I don't think so, they seemed pretty caught up in their own thing..._ **

**_Are we ever going to talk face to face, or will sending hopeless love letters be our only form of communication?_ **

**_kisses, Harry_ **

_————_

_Dear Autumn,_

_I personally think kissing is a valid form of communicating as well._  
_Are you going home for the holidays? I am._

_xx Draco_

_————_

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_I am not, which means you'll be leaving me alone in this castle. Rude._ **

**_kisses, Harry_ **

_————_

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_I miss you. How's life at the manor?_ **

**_kisses, Harry_ **

_————_

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_Merry Christmas. Is it too cheesy to keep the mistletoe till you've returned?_ **

**_Miss you xoxo_ **

_————_

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_You looked good today. I'm also very mad at you for not responding to me. Are you even reading them?_ **

**_Kisses, Harry (in an angry way.)_ **

_————_

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_I hope snow will fall. Have you ever made out in snow? You're very warm, I bet it'd cancel out the snow's cold._ **

**_Are you okay? You haven't said a word to me yet. If you're reading this, please respond._ **

**_Kisses, Harry_ **

**_————_ **

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_I think avoiding me is one of your special talents. Draco Malfoy, specialist at avoiding Harry Potter._ **

**_Write back? Please_ **

**_Kisses, Harry_ **

**_————_ **

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_You suck and I fucking hate you and I wish you never even fucking kissed me._ **

**_Sorry, that's a bit dramatic. But did you even notice me at all during this entire month? Not even one word. Fuck you._ **

**_\- H_ **

~

Malfoy was different.

He came back, and then he didn't look at Harry anymore. No more hidden stares during class that Harry pretended he didn't notice, no more catching each other's gaze when they happened to be eating dinner at the same time. Not even an acknowledgment of his existence in the common room. And like the fool he was, Harry kept writing letters, only to find that at some point they didn't all fit into the chessboard, and Malfoy wasn't going to pick them up.

He convinced himself he wasn't actually disappointed by the turn of events. He hated Malfoy after all. There were other people he could kiss, people who were nicer than Malfoy too. This was good. This was better. Harry felt worse.

Mid February was cold. It was freezing, lonely and Harry kept looking for something he was missing. He didn't find it. Instead, he found snow. February 12th and the clouds were blessing them with tiny little white snowflakes. Lots of them. It was white outside before he knew it.

Everyone else was asleep. It was 3 am, they all had potions class tomorrow. Only a fool would be awake at this hour. Harry didn't consider himself a fool, rather just someone with a lack of common sense. He pushed the thought of going outside to jump in fresh snow away and instead climbed through the portrait hole, accompanied by the knight complaining about the time, like always.

Malfoy hadn't been in the common room for a long time. Harry would know, he stayed there every night waiting. And then suddenly, there he was. Bend over on the sofa, reading a book of which the spine was bend and the pages curled up and away from each other. And the best thing was; he didn't notice Harry.

He stayed there, biting his nail, his hair hanging over his forehead, the sleeves of his shirt pulled up. Harry saw green robes laying down in front of him. Then the anger returned, and all he wanted to do was punch him or kick him or hurt him in any way possible, and then mere seconds later he also really wanted to kiss him. He doubted either option would get him very far. 

'I don't know if I want to kiss or punch you', he said then.

He eagerly waited for a reaction. He didn't get one. Just Malfoy flicking his page, not even bothering to look up. 'Hi Potter.'

'Since when am I Potter?' Harry asked. He walked past the books and parchment on the floor, stepped over some quills and cushions. Malfoy didn't even look at him when he sat down next to him.

'Can you at least pretend to care?' he said. No response.

'Draco', nothing.

He resorted to yanking his book out of his hands and throwing it to the other side of the room before looking at the blond like he was about to kill him. Maybe he was.

'What do you want, Potter', Malfoy sighed. Harry _hated_ this. _Hated Hated Hated this._ Everything about it was _wrong_.

'I want you to stop calling me Potter. We've been making out for a month, at least have the balls to call me by my first name', he said, and he didn't realize he was screaming until he stopped and everything seemed abnormally quiet.

'Fine.'

'And I want you to explain why the fuck you have been ignoring me for the past month, making me look like a fucking idiot; writing letters to someone who is never going to respond', he says the last thing quietly.

'Sorry? I didn't know I was obligated to write love letters to Harry Fucking Potter', he bit.

'It's called communicating. We can't make out every once in a while and then ignore each other for the rest of the time.'

'Yes we can. That was the fucking plan all along. Why do you have to ruin everything?'

'May I remind you that you're the one who wrote the first letter?'

'May I remind _you_ that I specifically told you not to write me back?'

'That's so fucking stupid!' Harry throws his hands up, and the realization of how close they are hits him, and it seemed to hit Malfoy at the same time.

It wasn't like they hadn't been closer. It was the fact that Harry told himself he didn't care. Not about Malfoy, not about making out with him, not about any of it. And now all he could focus on were Malfoy's lips, and he wanted to either kiss him unconscious or slap him unconscious. Or he could try and slap himself unconscious. Maybe he'd wake up hating Malfoy again.

'I'm not making out with you right now', he didn't know if he said it to Malfoy or himself.

'I wouldn't want that anyway.'

But Malfoy stood up, and he folded his hand around Harry's wrist and pulled him of the sofa. Harry tripped over a cushion, he only walked faster. When they were halfway through a corridor Malfoy slid his hand down to Harry's. They entwined their fingers at the exact same time, like they'd planned it. Like they knew.

Harry didn't ask where they were going. He didn't care. He just cared about Malfoy's hand in his. Malfoy, who looked like a greek god when the moonlight lit up his face. It was all glowing and smiles and snowflakes landing in his hair. Harry wished he could live in that moment forever.

'You said you hoped it would snow', Malfoy said. He looked up, Harry looked at him, like he always did.

'So you did read my letters. Why didn't you write any back?'

'Because I hoped you'd stop if I didn't respond.'

Harry accepted Malfoy was confusing a long time ago, and that that made him confused. But now Malfoy seemed to be confused too. And maybe he was confusing. Maybe this entire thing was. He didn't think so. Nothing was confusing. He knew what he wanted; he knew was he wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy in the moonlight while the snow fell down on them like they were in some happily ever after movie scene.

He didn't kiss him. Malfoy didn't either. But they laid down in the snow.

'Snow angels', Harry said.

'Awh, babe, you think I'm an angel?'

'Shut your mouth', Harry smirked.

Malloy laughed and threw a fistful of snow. And when they stood up, there they were; two snow angels. They looked like little circles in the ground, and nobody would even see that they were supposed to be angels. But Harry knew. And Malfoy did.

He crouched down in the snow and his fingers drew letters. _C + A._

'Do I need to remind you of our names?' said Malfoy as he frowned.

'These are our names', Harry replied. 'Citrus and Autumn.'

Harry didn't notice the smile Malfoy gave him as he spoke. 'You're pathetic.'

~

_Dear Autumn,_

_Hello. Hi. Good day. I miss you._

_x Citrus_

_————_

**_Dear Citrus,_ **

**_It's strange how you taste like Citrus. Do you always have a lemon or a lime in your bag? Is it a spell? Anyway, I like it._ **

**_Miss you too_ **

**_Kisses Autumn_ **

**_————_ **

_My Dearest Autumn,_

_Says the one who tastes like fucking autumn. How do you even do that?_

_I hate your handwriting. You write your D's weird._

_x Citrus_

_—————_

**_My Dearest Citrus,_ **

**_Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco_ ** **_Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco_ **

**_kisses from your favorite person_ **

_————_

_My Dearest Autumn,_

_Calm down love, your obsession with me is showing. It's cute how you think you're my favorite person while I literally hate you and would kill you if I had the chance_

_x Citrus_

_————_

**_My Dearest Citrus,_ **

**_Sure you do. Keep telling yourself that, and maybe you'll believe it_ **

**_Kisses from your favorite person_ **

**_————_ **

_My dearest Autumn,_

_It's come to my attention that we have every class together on Mondays. I'm starting to be quite fond of Mondays._

_x Citrus_

**_————_ **

**_My Dearest Citrus,_ **

**_Stop, it's almost like you like me._ **

**_Hermione told me there'll be snow this weekend. I like snow. It kind of reminds me of you. You look like snow, in the best way possible_ **

**_Kisses Autumn_ **

**_————_ **

There was this one Thursday morning, when Harry was very sleep deprived and very cold and couldn't think straight. He'd pulled Draco away from the stream of students in the corridors and kissed him in a broom closet.

'Harry, did you just kiss someone?', Hermione asked him when he walked out a couple of seconds before Draco would.

'What?'

'Who did you just kiss?' Hermione asked again.

'I didn't kiss anyone', he said as neutral as possible.

'Then what were those sounds we were hearing?'

'Your tie's crooked mate', said Ron.

For someone who was so fixed on Harry's tie being neat and folded and perfect, Draco sure messed it up a lot.

'I was running late', Harry replied and he stuffed his tie back into his vest.

Ron and Hermione looked behind them. They didn't see Draco's blond hair moving away from them. Harry did. He always did.

Then there was a history of magic lesson where Draco passed him a note that just said _bathroom_ , and so they bothed went, and he was almost 100% sure people noticed something weird going on. But Draco didn't care, so neither did Harry.

There was also that one potions class. He didn't know how or why it happened, but Harry convinced Slughorn he should work with Draco, and so he found himself staring at the blond, bend over the cauldron, eyes narrowed.

'What did you just put in here?' he asked.

'Those white things', said Harry.

'Why would you do that?'

'To piss you off.'

'You ruined the entire potion you dumbass', it didn't take long before Harry's notes were covered in ingredients found by Draco, who threw his head back and laughed, and Harry thought it was the best thing he'd ever seen.

He made himself repeat the words _I don't like Draco Malfoy_ about fourty times that evening. Maybe his brain would finally register them. _Harry Potter did not like Draco Malfoy._ They were simply two people who absolutely hated each other and then sometimes hooked up, but that was all. And, well, of course there were letters, but they only wrote those because they were civil and weren't going to kiss someone ten times a day without having some sort of communication going on. 

But for once, Harry thought things might be okay. They felt okay. They felt right, like they were meant to be like this. Like Draco's hands were meant to be cupping his face, and Harry's were meant to be fluffing up Draco's hair. It was nearly perfect. Till it wasn't.

'Wh-what?' it took him a lot of power to keep his voice steady.

'Do you really want me to repeat what I said, again?' Malfoy raised his brow.

'No, no I just..', _I just want you to see you're kidding, and this is all one big joke, and tell me how funny I looked because I actually believed it_ , Harry thought. 'How long will you be gone?' he asked instead.

'I don't know. The rest of the school year, maybe.'

'And you're not going to tell me why?'

Draco swallowed. 'It's complicated', he said and he looked down at his feet. 

Harry didn't care how complicated it might be, he cared that Draco would leave. _Him_. He'd leave _him_. He'd be all alone in this big, useless castle and there'll be no Draco Malfoy. He didn't know why that made him want to cry and bundle up in his bed and never get out. He didn't know why he wanted to scream and punch a whole in the wall and kiss Draco and punch Draco. He did know non of that was going to make him stay. The clock filled the common room with loud bells as it chimed 1 am. Harry looked at the boy in front of him, who refused to look back, staring at the floor as if it was the most interesting piece of art.

'I can handle complicated', Harry said. 

Draco smiled. 'I know', he whispered. He looked up and closed the space between them. Then he kissed him, and it was _oh so_ different then it usually was. Usually it was a clashing of lips and teeth, fast and messy and exhilarating. It was being quicker than sound and outrunning time. Now it was the salty taste of Draco's tears and the soft, gentle touch of his lips. Now it was angels and stars and all that was good in the world, woven together with a future emptiness that only Draco could fill. Now it was a message. _I'll miss you. I hate you. Don't leave me. Don't forget me. I'll miss you. I hate you. I'll miss you._ Harry was never good at hints, or clues, or messages. But this one he understood competely, because he was Draco and he was Harry and he understood.

Draco was gone before the sun was in the sky. 

~

Harry was actively losing his mind, and he knew exactly why. It was horrible, and he hated it for more than a few reasons.

Number one; he was losing his mind because of _Draco fucking Malfoy_. He was losing his mind because he couldn't see the annoying, good looking git every day. The worst part was that he didn't even _like_ Draco. He'd just became so used to his presence that he didn't really know what to do now that he wasn't here. Most of all he hated how he was always on his mind. From when he went to breakfast to when he walked the corridors at night, Draco Malfoy was front and center, ingraved in his brain, main topic. His school notes were crammed with the name _Citrus_ written all over it. It was horrible.

Number two; he kept forgetting. Maybe he was in some weird state of denial, but he kept forgetting Draco wasn't at school. He'd find himself sitting, bending over a piece of parchment paper before he realized that nobody would receive the letter. And then the next night it would happen again, and again, and again.

Number three; Hermione knew. She 100% knew. Harry didn't know how, or since when, but she knew the morning Draco had left to go back home. She'd wrapped her arm around his shoulder when she'd found him sitting in front of the fire and she'd whispered softly. ' _He'll come back, don't worry. I've payed attention to him, he can't stay away from you._ ' Harry hadn't said a word, and he still hadn't. Hermione didn't either, she just smiled at his notes when he wrote _Citrus_ again. Harry hoped she was right.

Number four, which was in fact the worst of all; Harry was an absolute piece of shit of a man who was obsessed with Draco Malfoy. So much so that he was willing to approach Parkinson and Zabini.

Zabini was all wry laughs and stinging truths. Parkinson was disaproving looks and daring eyes, like Hermione, but mean. And Harry was small, and looked like he was a corpse, and he was so very desperate to talk to Draco. He coughed. Zabini noticed him first.

'Potter', he said with that laugh, the one only Zabini could do. 'To what do we owe the pleasure?'

'Erm, I..', he coughed again and raised his voice. 'I was wondering.. erm.. I need help', _that was the worst way he could have possibly phrased it._

'Yes, everyone knows that', Parkinson let her eyes drift across Harry, staring like he was filth.

'No I, I mean I need your help', he swallowed. _Just ask it, stop being such a fucking coward_ , He thought. 'I need Malfoy's adress.'

Neither of them said something.

'Please?' Harry added hopefully.

'What for?' Zabini asked. Harry wasn't good at lying, especially not to two intimidating Slytherins who could possibly kill him and also get away with it if they wanted to.

'He took a bunch of my potions notes, I need them back', Parkinson and Zabini did not look like they believed him at all, but they also looked annoyed and bored of Harry's stumbling over his words, so Zabini handed him a piece of parchment with an adress on it and Harry's heart jumped a little.

'Thank you so much!'

'You seem very eager to get your potions notes back..', Parkinson smirked, which just resulted in Zabini slapping her. Harry was gone before she slapped him back.

_————_

**_Dear Draco,_ **

**_I hope that me going through hell to get your adress isn't a turn off. If it is, pretend this never happened pls._ **

**_How are you? Is everything going okay?_ **

**_The corridors don't seem very friendly without you here. Neither do the classrooms, or the great hall, or the common room. I'm trying to learn chess, maybe we can play it once you get back. I do hope you get back. I think I might drown in empty nights if you don't._ **

**_I miss you more than words can describe._ **

**_Love, Harry._ **

_————_

_Dear Harry,_

_If it's any consolation, the fact that you did all that for an adress is quite a turn on, actually._

_Things here are pure shit. They're so shit they're almost funny. My mum is frantic and wakes up at 5 am every single day. I don't sleep at all, but I don't think that's a surprise to you. Though, apart from my mums mental breakdowns, I think I won't be here all year. The thing is going fine, and even though I know my mum likes to have me here for emotional support and shit, she also wants me to finish the school year and my NEWTS. I don't really care about my NEWTS, I desperately want to see you. (and kiss you, but that's kind of the same thing for us.)_

_I miss you every waking hour._

_Love, Draco._

_————_

**_Dear Draco,_ **

**_I think you're kind of my emotional support person. Is that strange to randomly put in a letter? I don't know. But like, I've been really absent-minded and sad and sad and sad and I want you to come back so I can kiss you._ **

**_Hermione knows, I think. Or well, I'm pretty fucking sure she knows, cause she kind of told me. I thought maybe you'd want to know. We never talked about.. if we were going to share this with our friends. I don't know if it's a big deal. Do you think it's a big deal? What even are we?_ **

**_Seperated, that's what we are. It's cruel. The world is_ ** **_a_ ** **_cruel pla_ ** **_ce_ ** **** **_for_ ** **_Hogwarts gays._ **

**_Fucking a million kisses, Harry_ **

_————_

_Dear Harry,_

_You're so dramatic. I miss you too._

_I think I'll be back at the end of March. Things are going good here, or, as good as they can at least. Mum's less chaotic. She's been drinking chamomille tea._

_Have you met your own friend? Granger knows everything, so I'm not surprised about this at all. I didn't tell my friends anything about us. I don't think there's anything to tell. We're hooking up, that's all. I think. Right? Also, since when are we the Hogwarts gays? I'm fairly sure that spot has been taken up by Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley._

_I never sleep, still I dream of you._

_All of my love, Draco_

_————_

**_Dear Draco,_ **

**_I like writing your name. I like saying your name. I like your name. I think it works well with mine. "_ ** **Draco and Harry** **_" I think it looks good._ **

**_Your friends are scary. They've been trying to sneak up on me ever since I asked them for your adress. They look like they're planning my murder._ **

**_I think maybe I underestimated you and what you are and who you are and what you do and everything you say and just_ ** **you** **_. I miss all of it. I knew I was going to, but I miss you even more than I expected to. And it's the end of March and either I'm blind or you're not here._ **

**_I don't know how I ever lived my life without you. It's torture._ **

**_Love, Harry_ **

_————_

Harry didn't get a letter back. He got something better. He saw Draco that very next morning. He was standing on top of a sofa, a cup of coffee in his hand. His tie was crooked, his hair peaked in every direction. Parkinson and a Hufflepuff were staring at him. When he saw Harry he raised his cup and smiled broad. 'To everything I'm about to destroy', he said. His face was almost glowing, and so was Harry's heart as he smiled back, completely and utterly consumed by all that was Draco Malfoy.

~

Draco took away pain.

Harry didn't think he even noticed it. He took away pain when he kissed him and when he smiled and when he would storm into the common room at 3 am because he couldn't sleep. He took away pain when he wrote letters and when he read Harry poems at midnight and when he shot him secret glances during classes and in the halls. And he didn't even know it.

Draco was all that was good in the world, and Harry loved him. And maybe that's where things went wrong.

~

Spring sneaked into April. Fresh eggs for breakfast, scents of flowers roaming through the halls. It was beautiful and great and it was romantic. And Harry needed romantic. Because he was so very deeply in love with Draco Malfoy as his lips brushed Harry's. He pushed him against the stalls of ingredients in a deserted potions classroom. The glass broke on the floor.

'Shit', Draco laughed and he burried his face in Harry's neck.

_I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you._

'What's our next class?' Draco asked. He trailed his finger along Harry's back. He drew stars and moons and words. He did that a lot.

_I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you._

'Charms.'

'Mhm', Draco said. 'Maybe I'll charm you.'

Harry smiled. And he believed for one minute that the world was perfect. That the world wasn't cruel. It was kind and giving. It was tender and warm and gentle and everything made sense.

'I love you.'

His voice was the clearest it had ever been. Harry knew he shouldn't have said it the minute Draco's hand against his bare back stopped moving. He heard him swallow, and then he heard him hold his breath. The light seemed to be darker, and he realized they were standing in the middle of a potions classroom, tie's somewhere by the door, Harry shirt somewhere too and he just told Malfoy he loved him. And he _knew_ he messed it all up. He could never let anything just _be_ , could he? Everything was perfect. It was better than that even. He ruined it with three simple words. Draco seemed highly aware of Harry's breathing, and Harry was highly aware of Malfoy's warmth. _Please say something_.

He didn't. He raised his head and looked at him with an expression on his face that could've meant a million different things. _Talk to me Draco,_ Harry thought. _Say something. Communicate._ He ran out of the door, leaving Harry surrounded by broken vials and cups.

~

_Dear Draco,_

_It's impossible to talk to you. I talk to you in my dreams, in my future, in my past, but I cannot in the present. You've truly mastered ignoring me. Going left when I go right. Slytherin and Gryffindor, huh?_

_I'll give you space, you know I will. I'll give you anything and everything and if I could I'd give you my life. I love you Citrus. And you don't have to love me. It's fine. I'll love you enough for the both of us._

_Please talk to me. I can't stand the silence. I feel it might eat me up, swallow me hole. Please talk to me._ _I think I'm going mad._

_Love, Harry_

~

Harry saved all of their letters. He liked the way Draco wrote his name. _Harry_. The H looked like art. He was absolutely pathetic. He loved Draco. He loved him even if he didn't love him back. He loved him so much that sometimes it hurt. And he'd loved him since forever, because Harry couldn't remember his life before him. It was just Draco and Draco and Draco and Draco.

And then he was crying, warm tears streaming down his face like honey. Bittersweet.

The Gryffindor common room was a small round room in a tower. Sometimes you could hear the person next to you breathing, that's how close the beds were. Harry pressed his face into his pillow, let it swallow him. It was useless. Ron was seated on his bed within mere seconds.

'I'm fine', said Harry, his face still one with the pillow.

'Yes', Ron said. 'You look splendid.' he sighed. 'Let's go downstairs, I'll make hot chocolate and maybe tea.'

~

Hermione and Ron were seated across from him. They looked at each other, swallowed, looked at Harry, looked at each other again. He had his hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream. He held it next to his mouth as the heat made his glasses go fuzzy. Hermione handed him another paper towel and he caught a tear hanging from his upper lashes.

'He'll come around Harry', Hermione said.

'He's been ignoring me for a week now', _6 days, 13 hours and 54 minutes if he was going to be precise._

'He's figuring things out', Ron mumbeled.

'I told him I loved him, not that I'm going to kill his family', Harry felt another tear sipple down. 'If he needs time to decide if he loves me or not, then he doesn't.'

'Harry don't sa-'

'It's fine 'mione', he gives her a somber smile. 'I don't care if he loves me or not, I just want to talk to him. Is that selfish?'

'No', they said at the same time.

Harry brought his cup to his mouth and took a sip. It burned his tongue and his throat. He didn't care, at least it gave him something else to be occupied by. Then his mind found it's way back to the other tower, up the stairs, to the Slytherin bedroom, to Draco Malfoy. Harry hated it and loved it so much.

'Harry..', Hermione pressed her lips together. 'Have you ever given it a though that maybe Malfoy... isn't.. free to love you?' Hermione bit her bottom lip, looking at Ron for help.

'What?'

'His father is Lucius Malfoy', Ron said.

'I know.'

Hermione sighed. She took Harry's cup and placed it on the salon table. She wrapped his hands in hers. 'Harry, the possibility of Lucius Malfoy killing his son when he brings you home is... big', she swallowed. 'You're a Gryffindor, and a half-blood, and you're.. well, you're a guy.'

Harry blinked.

'He's not avoiding you because he wants to Harry.'

'His father is in Azkaban.'

'Harry...'

'No. His father has no power over him. He's locked up. He's locked up in Azkaban.'

'Lucius Malfoy got out of Azkaban two months ago mate', Ron breathed.

Harry shifts his eyes between his friends. Lucius Malfoy was locked up. In Azkaban. He couldn't ruin this for them. But it made sense; Draco going home to help his mum, Draco freaking out about three words. And he had never hated Lucius Malfoy more.

'So you're saying there's no hope', it comes out meaner than he wants to, but he's too tired to care.

'We're saying that Draco might not have the freedom to love you Harry.'

Harry cursed the world.

He cursed Lucius Malfoy.

He cursed himself.

He cursed Draco for being so unbelievably breathtaking.

He cursed luck and bad luck and everything in between.

He cursed kisses.

He cursed snow.

He cursed I love you's.

He cursed letters.

He cursed the world.

~

Easter break was hugs and waves and goodbyes before it became long walks and sleepless nights.

Ron and Hermione went to the Weasleys, and Harry felt strange joining them. It'd be them and Luna and Ginny and he wasn't really interested in being a fifth wheel. So he stayed behind alone. 

He knew Draco stayed at school too, but he was giving him space. A lot of space. So much space that he wasn't planning on talking to him ever again. It broke his heart and then crushed it. But Draco couldn't want him, so Harry wouldn't tempt him.

But Draco didn't leave his head. Ever. Rather, it seemed he thought of him even more. It made him want to cry. And he did.

~

'Potter.'

'Oh.'

The common room was dark and cold. Harry didn't have the energy to stoke a fire, and so he sat shivering on the sofa. Draco entered just after midnight. And he looked beautiful. And Harry wanted to stare at him for hours, but he couldn't. So he said _Oh_ , like the idiot he was.

'You do know the fireplace works right?' he nodded towards the goosebumps on his arms.

'Yes. Contrary to popular belief, I am not an idiot.'

'You are an idiot.'

And neither of them could withhold their smiles. _I'm idiotically in love with you_ , Harry thought. He wanted to say a million things, but nothing seemed good enough, and nothing seemed appropriate. So he kept quiet and hoped Draco would say something. He didn't. And Harry realized that him and Draco were over, and that whatever they were doing wasn't helping either of them.

He turned back around, the back of his head to Draco. He heard footsteps, and then two arms slid over his shoulders and someone rested their chin on his hair.

'Draco..', he said.

'Ssh', Draco's head fell of his hair and rested on his shoulder. 'Don't talk. Talking makes it complicated.'

Harry let his head rest against Draco's. 'I can handle complicated.'

He swore he felt Draco smile. 'I know.'

Draco Malfoy was warmth and kisses, ink and chess, smiles and citrus and burned sugar, and Harry had never loved someone more than him.

Draco kissed his cheek as he muttered something, and he thought it were three words, but he wasn't sure, and before he could ask Draco left and disappeared at the top of the Slytherin stairs. 

In his lap laid a letter.

————

_Dear Love,_

_When I was seven, there was a muggle boy in the house across from us. He would go outside and read and I'd sit in my room and watch him. I was seven, and I was stupid, and I was 90% whatever my father told me I was, so I never realized why I would stare at him like that._

_And then when I was eleven, there was another boy. He was a prick and annoying and wore glasses that made him look stupid and then he didn't shake my hand and I was absolutely devastated. But I was eleven, and I was stupid, and I was 90% whatever my father told me I should be, so I never realized why I would do whatever to get him to look at me for a fraction of a second._

_And the best thing was that he responded every time. It made me feel warm inside, but then everything went wrong. And I thought he would never talk to me again._

_Then, a year ago, things had changed, and the boy with the big glasses didn't seem like he wouldn't shake my hand anymore. And I was eighteen, and maybe still a little stupid, but I wasn't what my father told me to be, and I was hopelessly in love with Harry Potter. And then Harry Potter was in love with me, and it was the best thing I'd ever heard, and it made no sense, because I was Draco Malfoy and you were Harry Potter. But I love you and you loved me and everything was perfect._

_But I was eighteen, and a coward, and maybe still a little whatever my father told me I should be. So I panicked. I panicked and I ran and I ran until I was so far gone that it seemed impossible to turn back. And things grew old and cold and dark and you were slipping away. And I loved you so much. Still._

_And now I'm still eighteen, and I'm still a coward, but now I'm a coward who's trying to say goodbye and who's stalling because he doesn't want to let go. But we were doomed from the start my love. We're a tragedy waiting to struck. I'm trying to reduce the damage._

_I love you._  
_I've loved you since the start Harry._  
_Please never forget me._

_x Draco Malfoy_

_ ps.  _  
_"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way that this: where I does not exist, not you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."_

_\- Pablo Neruda_


End file.
